The Journal of Kate Austen
by ehcanadian
Summary: ‘Though we lost Charlie for a while, but I don’t know how. I mean, it’s not exactly easy to lose a bipolar bassist who won’t stop singing “You All Everybody” on a plane full of dead people, but somehow Jack and I did.’ Very AU.
1. Wounded Whales and a Bipolar Bassist

_A/N: I give you the Journal of Kate Austen. The side you don't see of her in the show. Very humorous, and very AU. Very._

**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognize, I don't own. Lyrics go to 'Tears For Fears'.

* * *

**Journal of Kate Austen**

'_Shout,  
Shout,  
Let it all out.  
These are the things I can do without.'  
_**-Tears For Fears' 'Shout'-**

**Day 1 – 8:35pm (or so the bald man says)**

I've never been one to keep a journal. I'm not the journal type, you know? I've always thought a journal as a waste of time, looking back on things that you should probably forget. But with everything happening, I should probably keep track of what's going on so I can sue the airline company when I get back. Maybe I can pay my bail that way. And if not, this thing still is a way of keeping time here on the island. (Is it one? Must check that.)

But they should probably be coming for us anytime now. You know, those black boxes aren't for nothing. So this whole writing thing is a complete waste of pencil and paper, anyway. I just found this notebook on the beach, and figured 'Wow, what a great way to write down my emotions so I don't blow up on some poor random soul, or that nice doctor.'

I probably will anyway. That whole '1-2-3-4-5' thing sounds like a load of crock to me. It might work for spinal surgeons (That's what he said he was, right?), but not for criminals. Definitely not for criminals.

But hey, journal writing isn't for criminals, and here I am, wasting my time.

**Day 1 – 9:04pm (The sun sets around that time tonight. I heard that on the Australian radio that bastard had playing in his car.)**

The food here sucks. An overweight man named Hurley was passing out old airline meals, and everyone mauled him for one. But then, once they tried some, the people realized that Australian airline food isn't different from any other airline food. A guy named Sawyer started collecting things from dead bodies. You know, pocket watches, wallets, that kind of stuff.

I guess I should start doing that. But no one here recognizes me, so I might blow my cover. I can't believe I gave out my real name to Jack (The doctor man.) How _stupid_ am I? Oh right, just take me away now. Too bad the marshal has a huge piece of shrapnel sticking out of him. Serves him right, that asshole.

**Day 1 – 9:17pm**

What the hell was that! That weird noise! It sounded like some kind of wounded whale, or something. What was that movie that was animated, and the ADD blue fish tried to sound like a whale? Because it didn't sound much different from that. But the weird thing was that it came from the middle of the Island, and trees started to fall down. What could be so big that it can knock down trees and sound like a wounded whale?

Jack started talking about going to find that black box tomorrow, and, being the idiot I am, I opted to come with him. He agreed right away, but I don't know why. Does he know about me?

Does anyone?

Where is everyone going to sleep, by the way? It's forty-eight people, and the wing of the airliner just fell to the ground a couple hours ago. It smells like rain, but everyone's hoping it won't.

**Day 1 – 9:28pm**

Never mind the hope. It just started to pour. Everyone's running around outside in the dark trying to find shelter and their luggage They're fighting a losing battle. Good thing I got dibs on mine early.

**Day 1 – 9:32pm**

Awww, how sweet of him. Jack just stopped by to drop off some blankets and airline pillows for me. I'll have to remember to help him out later.

**Day 2 – 7:46am (Bald man taught me how to read the time by the shadows. And also, I stole the watch from Sawyer)**

No rescuers yet. Maybe they're here, but just searching the wrong part of the Island (Is it one? Must check soon.). …What if they leave without us! Jack and I must get to that black box soon, so we can transmit a signal.

Does anyone know where the hell we are, anyway? I'll have to ask the bald guy (aka Locke to the rest of them) about that.

It stopped raining, thankfully. The sky's looking fantastic, so God must have taken pity on us, and decided to give us a fighting chance at this new, so-called, life.

Also, this pregnant woman named Claire, (She's really, really pregnant. Like ready to give birth at anytime, pregnant.) collected some fallen mangoes for breakfast. She seems really nice, and completely understanding about everything. This guitarist, named Charlie, has this infatuation with her. Almost like a stalker.

I wish someone liked me so much that they'd stalk me.

So I'm off to go eat, then trek my way through some mud to find a black box.

Talk about a party.

**Day 2 – 8:59am**

I take back the stalker comment. It seems that Charlie has lost a picture of his mother, so he wants to come with us, so he can search the plane for it.

…Maybe he likes his mom, too.

…Okay, that's a gross thought.

He seems familiar, but I can't place where he's from. I'll think of it eventually. He sure likes his guitar, though.

He seems kind of twitchy, though. You know, not normal.

Off to go save the lives of forty-six other people. (Hopefully forty-five, if the marshal doesn't live. We could all do without him.)

**Day 2 – 3:07pm**

DRIVESHAFT! That's where Charlie is from! He was singing one of his songs, and I was like "I know that song." And he was like "Oh yeah, I'm the bassist from DriveSHAFT." And I was all "…Thanks for telling me that now."

I told him that my best friend Beth, loved their band, and went to go see them on tour. But what I didn't say that Beth was actually me.

Hey, we can't be honest all the time.

But he seems so happy that someone had heard of them before.

Though I think he's bipolar. Because in five seconds flat, he changed from being thrilled to being depressed. "Well, I _was_ the bassist for them before we broke up." But only I heard the line he said next under his breath, which turned out to be "Stupid bloody bastards."

Then Jack got mad at us for not keeping up, so we had to shut up for a while. But not before Charlie started singing again.

I can tell you, after you heard that song fifty million times repeating, it gets kind of old. I don't think I'll listen to it till I'm old and grey, and trying to think of better times. (But honestly, who can call this a better time?)

I even know it word for word, now. That's how much I'm sick of it.

_You all, everybody.  
__You all, everybody.  
__I don't like you stupid people,  
__Wearing expensive clothes._

AG!

**Day 2 – 3:26pm**

It might actually help if I wrote else what happened on our "epic quest" that Charlie has now dubbed it to his friend who's a girl, Claire.

Well, after it started raining again, since someone up there seems to have a horrible sense of humor, we came across the plane. Well… Half of the plane, more like it. Not even that. Like one-third of it, maybe.

It didn't really help that it was sticking in the air like an almost vertical slide. And of course, showing that "wonderful" sense of humor again, it turns out that the cockpit was up top. Upon climbing inside, we saw it was full of dead bodies. What a joyful moment.

The stench was horrible, blood everywhere, and the looks of people faces.

Just… so scared.

So, we hiked up to the top, after having many scares of losing grips and falling. Though we lost Charlie for a while, but I don't know how. I mean, it's not exactly easy to lose a bipolar bassist who won't stop singing "You All Everybody" on a plane full of dead people, but somehow Jack and I did.

Wouldn't you just love us to baby-sit your kids?

Anyway, we (sans Charlie) made it to the top, and had to open that stupid door to the cockpit. You know, the one that's supposedly bulletproof and no one can get into.

Well, god forbid someone bring a brick of metal on the next flight. Because that's how we got it open.

I can just hear that as a news headline. "Terrorists gain control of plane by use of metal brick."

And of course, a dead body had to fall out and down the aisle. I swear, I screamed so loud that I sounded like I should be that woman in the shower from "Psycho". I think Jack about had a coronary, too.

We went in, relentless of said co-pilot falling, and looked around. The pilot was sitting in his chair, dead. Or so we thought.

All the sudden, we hear this giant wheeze, and there he is, looking around with the most classic look on his face.

At the time, we didn't think it was so funny because I let out another scream, and Jack ran to him (only a couple feet really), to give him water.

Them the pilot proceeded to relay the worst information a castaway on an Island could hear.

"We're a hundred miles off course. They're looking for us in the wrong place."

What a way to bring down the moment.

I mean, here Jack and I are, acting like the heroes so we can get the hell off this Island, only to find out that we might be here longer then we originally thought.

Great. Just wonderful.

Then, the wounded whale sound comes back, and the pilot said something along the lines of "What the hell?" before sticking his head out of the window.

And that's when he got sucked up.

Right through the **window.**

What a marvelous way to die.

So, of course, Jack and I get the hell out of there, but not before running into Charlie. The earth is rattling all around us, and all Charlie can say is a verse of the song.

So Jack and I grab hold of the bassist, and push him down the aisle. Well, try to. But the plane falls down, so technically, it'd be dragging him down the aisle.

What an awesome moment to show your grammar skills, Kate.

So, we're running, it's still raining, and – DAMMIT! Have to go claim my dinner before someone else does. I'll finish this later.

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_A/N: Anyone interested in a second chapter? Want to find out what else Kate perceives on things?_

_Just leave a review. It can be a one-worder, like "Poptart." Or a random movie line, like "There's trouble right here in River City. With a capital T that rhymes with P, and that stands for Pool."_

_My old reviewers know the drill. Anything random is welcome, anything criticizing my work is, also. Even a "Great." would just make my day._


	2. Books Clubs and Dictators

_A/N: Heh, glad you all like it so well. I'm a Jater, but this is more of Kate's opinion of mine, so it kind of conforms to both Jate and Skate._

**Disclaimer: **Anything you recognize, I don't own. Easy as that. 'Mambo No. 5' goes to Lou Bega, and you can view the full lyrics here – www(dot)lyricsondemand(dot)com/l/loubegalyrics/mambonoalittlebitoflyrics(dot)html

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_**The Journal of Kate Austen**_

**Day Three**

**1:34am**

Whenever Sawyer is around, I always want to start singing "Mambo No. 5". He just seems like the person that that song applies to. You know, the good guy/bad guy cover, and the nice little smart-alecky attitude. Right now, he's up, cursing because all his stuff is getting wet since Jack took his tent for medical reasons.

It's raining, if the above statement didn't make sense to you. Thundering and lightening; even Jack is up, worrying.

Though for a different reason.

It seems that the marshal has taken a turn for the worse. I know I should be all sad and worried right along with him, but I can't help it. There's now a fighting chance that I can just start over.

I'm probably going to burn in hell for thinking such a mean thought. This is probably the final straw that I've pulled.

Seriously.

**  
2:58am**

Still up. Though I think that everyone is about up now. The 'monster' as someone idiotically started calling it, just started up again. In fact, it's going on right now. It's getting truly hard to decipher the thunder from the dull roar, but it's definitely going on.

This is sad.

I'm writing in a journal that I'm now addicted to, and I'm not outside, yelling incoherent babble with a bunch of other people.

I'm sure I could blow them all away with my "Psycho" scream. It'll get an award someday, and I'll be an actress, and famous, and they'll print stories about me with headlines reading, "Bad girl gone good!" and "Criminal turns into thriving actress."

I'm sure I could make a good Marian the Librarian.

But hey, I'll wait to debut my scream. I think I almost made Jack go deaf with my preview. So it needs a bit of tweaking anyway.

Hey look, a romance novel!

…Am I that desperate?

**  
3:01am**

Yes.

**  
5:18am**

_-tear drops littering paper-_

Poor Esmeralda! Why did she have to lose him! And the car crash, and the hospital scene, and the death! Nooo! Denny! Even though you looked fat on the cover of the novel, I'll bet Esmeralda still loved you! DAMN DRUNK DRIVER! And the evil mother paying said drunk-driver to hit poor Denny! And who could forget the pirate! Trying to steal her away! He sounded almost like Johnny Depp… If only books could talk.

I wonder if there's anymore of these around.

**  
6:23am**

I'm screwed. So screwed.

Sawyer just caught me reading another one of those things! He just started laughing his ass off! Stupid bastard! I'm so going to catch him in the act one of these days.

Though, I can totally imagine him as the pirate.

If he tells anyone, I'm going to steal that marshal's gun, and shoot him. No joke. I don't need it going around that I'm some sappy reader who loves romance novels.

Because that is definitely not me.

Not even close.

Nope.

…Okay… Maybe just a little. But not much!

But no one needs to know… right?

Right!

**  
6:35am**

He's come back. Bringing not only himself, but a suitcase of books. What's he thinking? That I'm some kind of librarian that reads sappy novels?

If he expects some kind of book club to form between us, he's going to be sorely mistaken.

But you've got to admit, a bad boy who reads isn't too bad of catch.

Oh God, what am I thinking! Sawyer is not a "catch"!

And now he's wondering what I'm doing, since I'm writing this in the corner of my shelter thing, pretending to get my stash of books.

…He's going to think I'm insane. I have no books! Except two, and one of them is miserably sopping wet. Dammit!

**  
7:07am**

_Hey Freckles-_

_Glad to know that you think of me as a "catch", as you so thoughtfully put it. Really, I'm flattered._

_As for the 'bad boy' part, I'm definitely going to have to start thinking about what I'm going to wear now. I don't think my plaid shirt really accents my badness… Maybe some nice boots and a black shirt will get the idea across. I'll have to ask Jackass about that, since he seems to know so much. Damn brainiac._

_I guess the book club thing isn't going to work out between us after all, huh Freckles? Too bad, I was thinking we could meet every Tuesday, and have cookies and punch, talking about the latest Oprah. Maybe 'Stalker Charlie' (what a wonderful nickname, though I much prefer 'has been rocker') will be interested._

_Nice reading material,  
__Sawyer_

_Ps. You'd make a good Marian the Librarian, Freckles. Maybe I can be Harold Hill. _

**  
9:14am**

BASTARD! I'm getting the gun.

I can't believe he stole this! And then _read_ it! What is that man thinking? And Harold Hill? He'll NEVER be a Harold Hill! Maybe Jack…

Who am I kidding?

Sawyer's right about one thing though. Jack does really have a smart mind. Like… freakishly smart. Oh God, I hope he doesn't pull some dictator thing. A Stalin is the last thing we need on our hands.

…At least he didn't make a comment about the whole criminal thing. Maybe I got lucky, and he skipped over it.

**  
9:15am**

It'll be his (Jack's) own damn fault if he doesn't want to "date" me. (We can't exactly have a full scale relationship on this hellhole, now can we?)

**  
9:16am**

Why am I talking about guys when I'm stuck on a deserted Island with man who could potentially ruin my life, and forty-seven other people that I don't even know! ANSWER THAT, NOTEBOOK! ANSWER THAT!

**  
9:17am**

This notebook is not a human being, nor does it have a mind.  
This notebook is not a human being, nor does it have a mind.  
This notebook is not a human being, nor does it have a mind.  
This notebook is not a human being, nor does it have a mind.

**  
9:18am**

It can't even talk! Or move, for that matter!

**  
9:19am**

I really need to socialize more.

**  
12:37pm**

Shit.

Shit.

SHIT!

They found the picture! ('They' being Hurley and Jack.)

Great. Now he'll never ever look at me in the same way again. No one will. But still… Don't dictators have some kind of torture they do to criminals?

…Maybe I really should pull a Marian the Librarian. It can't be that hard to steal a suitcase full of books. Just deny everything. They don't know that I know that they know about the picture yet, though.

Besides, I need new reading material anyway.

**  
1:27pm**

I'm such a badass! I stole every single romance novel that man had out of that damn suitcase. Which was an alarming amount, actually now that I think about it. Either he has some fetish for romance novels, or every single woman brought one with themselves on the flight.

I heard some talk about going to try out the signal. There's this Arabian man who believes the transceiver will work if we're on higher grounds. I, for one, am interested to see if this little plot works.

Plus, it kind of works with the timing. I don't exactly want to be interrogated by an overweight man, and a spinal surgeon.

So it all works out, notebook. See?

**  
2:14pm**

Damn it all. Sawyer just came up to me, asking if I knew where all his books disappeared to.

I suppose I wasn't very subtle about it all.

But I did tell him to please remove his head from his ass. Always a plus.

But then he told me that I could keep all the books I stole so I can continue my fantasies.

How can such a bad man with so many innuendos be so gentlemanly about them? When he insults you, it's almost like a compliment.

Damn him and his gentlemanliness!

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_A/N: Anyone interested in a third chapter?_

_Remember, anything from "This story sucks. It's not even in character!", to "BEETLES!", to "I LOVE THIS STROY! OMG, UPD8 SON!" make my day. I want to know what you guys think of it._

_Pie always makes me happy. When doesn't pie make anyone happy?_


End file.
